


David Washington Will Ruin You (in all the best ways)

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Series: Of Sex, Ink, and Skateboards [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: (I want to write Wash in Lace), (nothing too bad but I'm tagging it anyways to be safe), (tagging that to be safe), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aromantic Character, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bruises, Chapter three is the angst, Choking, Crying, Cum Eating, Cum Play, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Face-Fucking, Felix is mostly the reason for the "Open Relationship" tag, Fights, Fingerfucking, Foursome - M/M/M/M, He writes poetry, Homophobic Language, Kissing, Lace Panties, Loud Sex, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Mentions of homophobia, Messy Make Outs, Morning Sex, Multi, Open Relationships, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Character, Piercings, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Relationship Discussions, Rimming, Rough Sex, Self-Worth Issues, Slurs, Tattoos, The Mainewash is mostly a past relationship, The boys run a porn channel, They're all nerds all four of them, Threesome - M/M/M, Tuckington is mostly onesided (tucker thinks Wash is hot), Voyeurism, Wash and Locus are kinky fucks, Washington is a hopeless romantic, Washington's mother is a bitch, We're working on getting it back to the happy and smut, chapter two is more than just smut, mentions of abuse, so many kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want you to fill me up—bury yourself so far into me I’ll be cleaning your cum out for weeks.” It was filthy, so filthy and gross but Locus was going to finally fuck him on camera—they were going to post it, and everyone would see how David Washington belonged to Locus. They’d see just how much Locus belonged to Wash.<br/>Because Wash had ruined him—ruined him for anyone else. Every kiss would make him think of David Washington, every touch—every look and taste, they would all be ruined.</p><p>[Chapter two is where the warnings come into play, I'll be making another note in that chapter]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ThreeGuys&aBlond

**Author's Note:**

> I have another part to write for this and I'm most likely going to post a few more parts of this series in this AU. This is actually a lot of fun.  
> Great for smut practice. 
> 
> Also, that hyperlink that I have in here is NSFW (its two dudes butt fucking, please click the link with caution. No sound, just three gifs of naked making out while doing the do). But you'll eventually get to that at the end of the story.
> 
> If you notice anything problematic in this please come tell me! I have a lot of characters who bring their own personal mindsets into this that have all their own thoughts and feelings.  
> If you're triggered by anything at all please tell me so I can tag it or phrase it differently. I've tagged the big stuff and the things that I personally get triggered by so if you need anything else please tell me!

Tucker first stumbled upon the live stream one lonely evening a week after the Holiday break ended and all the poor sad University and College students went back to school and started a new semester. It was the moment before a shit storm swept through the place and Tucker would be buried beneath mountains of projects and readings and stress.

It was a Thursday night that he went searching for porn. He was feeling up for some guy on guy action—preferably a guy with blond hair and freckles (and he will blame the Washington Effect for that). Tucker was always a guy who was open for possibilities even though he made it abundantly clear that he liked ladies; it was a hard habit to break and it was seen as more acceptable (ugh) more so than him just yelling “I’M PANSEXUAL!” everywhere and anywhere.

Plus Tucker thinks that if he curved himself out of that habit of his, his friends wouldn’t know what to do with him anymore. They might even throw him into a mental institution or something thinking that he’s gone all loony tunes.

And so, anyways, looking for porn Tucker did. He clicked and hovered over pictures trying to find something that met his tastes for the evening—when he got in the mood for blond and freckles he couldn’t really settle for anything less than blond and freckles (he had once pulled up the Facebook page and went all creepy and swore never again). Tucker had clicked until he found a live stream run by the name of LoW that was free to join.

Most likely a couple of newbies maybe learning the ropes and trying to gather a small following before they started charging—either way, Tucker was willing to pop in and check it out.

The first thing he saw when the screen finished loading and he typed in a quick handle name was pale skin and freckles—Tucker’s eyes widened and he mentally fist pumped in victory at his luck. The white man’s back arched away from his partner’s chest and he moaned; his cock fisted in his left hand.

                **_CbFreaks:_** _oh yeah bby ur so fuckin gorgeus_

_**BigD4432:** lets get a look at dat ass boy_

Tucker tried to ignore the chat but it kept chiming with each input—he didn’t want to mute the already soft sounding moans.

On screen dark hands trailed over pale white thighs, ignoring the man’s cock, and moving up the man’s equally freckled chest and tweeking a nipple. The white man gasped, mouth falling open and Tucker wished the rest of him was in frame—shit even the dark skinned man too, though the lack of face made it easier for Tucker to picture himself instead.

The dark skinned man grinned at their audience, pierced lip pulling up into a predatory grin—his pierced tongue licking a strip up the white man’s neck. White boy reached up and reached out of frame for what Tucker could only assume was to bury his hand in his hair. And that’s when Tucker noticed it.

The tattoo over the white man’s freckled ribs; from pit to the end of his ribcage on the right side was Washington’s tattoo—THAT WAS WASH’S TATTOO! Tucker could remember that design anywhere; the gray and yellow Halo armor tearing through his skin. When Wash got it Tucker remembered being jealous, wanting something kinda like that but in blue (bright blue).

“Turn around babe,” the dark skinned male said through Tucker’s speakers and Tucker could only watch as he spotted blond hair, and long brown hair swept to the right side as the white boy moved and showed everyone watching his ass (and asshole).  

That was Locus’ voice.

 _Holy shit!_ Tucker kept thinking, even through the moment that Locus plunged his middle and forefinger into Wash’s hole. And that was Locus; Tucker has seen Wash wear that very ring that Locus was wearing on that right ring finger. He _remembers_ that ring—he remembers getting _angry_ over the fact of that ring and the fact that Wash was wearing one of Locus’ rings around on his right hand like nothing most days.

Rings were a big thing, okay? Rings meant commitment and too much responsibilities for a eighteen year old (and well, Locus would’ve turned nineteen in December right? But still!) to have! Rings are BIG!

 _Holy shit I’m watching Wash get finger fucked_ , was the next thing as he watched Locus’ dark fingers disappear into Wash’s ass and the man’s moans upping in pitch. Two fingers became three and Tucker swallowed thickly, boxers tented and moist and he was gripping himself through his clothes (he was wearing too much). And everything was just going so fast—so, so fast.

Wash was moaning, his back bowing back and Tucker could see a splash of cum hit Locus’ bare chest. In an instant Tucker’s boxers were around his knees and his dick was in hand—fuck he had spank bank material for _months_ to come!

\--

There was always that one thing that everyone knew about the Wash-Locus couple and that was that they were kinky as _fuck_. When Felix had first stumbled into their affairs—best friend status, it was his _job_ to but his nose into their business—he was actually… well, he was actually a little startled at just how… well, non-vanilla Wash was yet still was.

It didn’t make sense; all these kinks between the both of them and Felix is just still flabbergasted at the fact that they’ve had sex in public close to ten times and they’ve _never_ gotten caught. How did they have that kind of luck? Honestly, people walk in on Felix getting a blow job at a party and the individual sucking him off gets all flustered and stops—when Locus and Wash have sex in _a fucking bathtub_ they both end up cumming even though people are still using that bathroom while they’re in it.

Felix hated those two sometimes—when they’re making out on the couch and he’s not invited, when he can hear the headboard of the bed slamming against the wall and Wash is _screaming_ in pleasure (which Felix wasn’t invited for), when the couple is snuggling on the couch.

It’s great though when Wash smiles over at him, looking up from his textbook, and holding the blanket up for Felix to curl against his side. The blond would kiss his cheek and ask about his day or how he slept or if he was looking forward to anything. Felix would wake up and Locus would still make sure that his coffee was ready for him and if he made anything that morning for breakfast any leftovers (Locus would never admit to making sure to cook enough for both of them) went to Felix.

And since that threesome agreement there were kisses now—kisses and more cuddles that Felix knew what to do with. And sometimes those kisses and/or cuddling had some roaming hands and clothes would start flying off and panting, rutting and body fluids would spill between flushed bodies.

Locus enjoyed watching Felix fuck Wash—he could see the man’s lips twitch up into a pointed and wolfish smirk every time Felix could get Wash to moan and arch and whine. He’d settle back in his desk chair still in his jean and wheel over for the perfect view; he’d then chip in with pointers— _touch him here,_ or _bite there_. And they’d work and Wash’s moans would pitch up louder and sometimes he’d even _beg_ to be fucked harder—or just to be fucked at all.

And that might be how it really started—that whole porn channel thing.

Locus liked showing Wash off, loved how even though he let Felix have a piece of him he’d always reach over towards Locus afterwards even if he was curled up with Felix. He’d sigh and hum under the kisses the taller man would place on his skin and whisper quiet _I love you’s_ that sometimes Felix felt a little bad to overhear.

And Felix could only stare, a small smile pulling at his lips, when Locus press a soft kiss against the corner of Wash’s eye and whisper it back to him.

\--

They started calling themselves ThreeGuys&aBlond and they would stream every Thursday—sometimes a Saturday or a Monday as well, but Thursday was always their one day. Their screen names were stupid and they all had a great chuckle about it after their first _real_ video—the one where they were getting paid for and everything. Locus was better known as the first syllable of his name and Felix agreed with that route too—they liked the sound rolling off Wash’s tongue in the fit of pleasure.

But this was the second month of their porn exploits, they had a _following_ —Felix found _gifs_ of them on Tumblr (he reblogged them so Wash could get a good look at it too). They had people in their chat room who would go on and on about how they wanted to make _Blondie_ / _Freckles_ scream out their name, or throw in ideas of what they wanted to see Wash take next (who he took next).

 _Let’s see Lo and Blondie fuck._ That was a popular request, though it hasn’t be done yet. It was always Felix and Wash fucking on camera, Locus would be in frame sometimes—he’d tell Felix what to do, where to touch to get the best reaction, sometimes he’d kiss Wash’s breath away, or wrap his hand around the blond’s dick or fuck him with only his fingers.

But Locus _always_ had his pants on. He’d shed his shirt and allow both Felix and Wash to climb all over him, kissing and biting and licking their way all over his flesh. He enjoyed being in the background, letting Wash and Felix soak up the views and praise (or demands). But when the camera turned off… well, it was a different story when the camera was off.

“C’mon baby,” Felix purred hands roaming over Wash’s exposed chest, over his stomach and up his ribs. Wash stuck his tongue out between his teeth and tilted his head back playfully, hands still crossed behind his head as he relaxed. “Blondie don’t be a little cunt,” still teasing and grinning.

Felix licked and nipped up Wash’s neck, his orange contact covered eyes locking in on the camera and he grinned. He felt like being a little prick to the audience; draw it all out—for all three of them, for _those_ people too. Hey, they were paying him to fuck his best friend’s boy he was going to enjoy every fucking moment of it.

“I lack the bits sweetling,” Wash’s voice dipped low—teasing as well—it was going to be a fun video for sure. Wash glanced over Felix’s shoulder and caught Locus’ ever watchful gaze; his blond brow rising and he nodded towards Locus.

Felix turned throwing a wicked grin over his shoulder when Locus slowly stripped out of his shirt, “You joining Lo?”

Locus ran a heavy palm up Felix’s spine, grabbing hold of his neck and pushing Wash and Felix’s lips together. “I’m spurring things along,” he replied releasing his hold of Felix and trailing his hand back down the man’s back. His kissed and bit at the man’s exposed shoulder, “the two of you had enough time talking,” he nipped harder than normal and Felix groaned into Washington’s mouth, hips grinding forward against the blond’s.

\--

Felix still went out and fucked other people—he didn’t do it often though. Not as often as he used to; it should concern him more but he was comfortable with what he had with Washington and Locus. He had his close comfortable bond with Locus still, the one he’s had since they were fee little things. He had the affection that Wash would smother him in—the soft kisses against his cheek or shoulder, the thumb sneaking up the back of his shirt, the hugs and cuddles.

The only thing that Locus wasn’t fond of that centered around the topic of David Washington was if Felix left too many marks on him—too many bites or hickies. But that ‘problem’ was only when Felix got bored and decided to see just how much hickies he could leave on the pale flesh before Wash would throw him off—he got up to ten hickies and maybe seven bite marks.

But Felix understood that—he _knew_ he was being a shit for that one and took the snarl and glare like a champ.

Felix still liked to kiss girls and fuck them—aromantic pansexual and all that fun stuff. Pussy wasn’t exactly an readily available resource when he was in an… agreement (because Felix is still in denial about relationships and the fact that the thing with Locus and Washington could be called a relationship by outside sources) with two guys.

So it was a surprise when a man caught his eye and he turned to the couple behind him, pulling both of them into a quick kiss and nodded towards tall, buff and tattooed. Both Locus and Wash eyed the man that caught Felix’s attention and Wash smiled that askewed grin of his and threw him a, “have fun!”

It wasn’t hard to get Tall, Buff and Tattooed to fuck him—he fucked hard and fast. It was brutal and Felix loved every fucking moment of it. The guy said he was called Vergil—a nickname that just kinda stuck and he liked it.

Felix didn’t fucking care at that point.

Felix took a liking to the man though and invited him back home with him a few nights later—where he still spends most of his time in Felix’s bed, keeping it warm. Vergil took rather well to everything; Locus and Wash and the fact that Felix was in a kinda sorta relationship with them even though he wasn’t completely sure himself.

Washington liked him—Vergil liked him back but that could be the Washington Effect. Everyone liked Wash.

Locus… well, the thing with Locus was a strange one. He didn’t mind the twenty year old as long as he didn’t touch Wash—though Locus was still the one that mentioned that Vergil could fuck him (which he did and Felix had rarely seen _that_ look in Locus’ eyes when he was causing Wash to moan and arch up off the bed). When Locus kicked them out that night the screams of pleasure that he pulled from Wash’s lungs could be heard throughout the apartment.

“Not sure that Locus likes me,” Vergil chuckled against Felix’s temple when they settled into bed that night, the covers pooling around their naked waists.

“He likes you when Wash isn’t involved. He’s very _possessive_ when it comes to his lovely David Washington,” Felix replied yawning loudly. His roommate and his love finally quiet after the loud and rough lovemaking. “Though I’m willing to bet a thousand bucks on Wash asking you to fuck him again just so he could repeat what just happened between him and Lo.”

Vergil didn’t believe him, he didn’t believe the eighteen year—not until the next morning when he saw all the love bites littering Washington’s person, his sex hair, and that _limp_ in his set (and of course the giant _I just got fucked_ grin splitting his face in two).

It was a week after that that ThreeGuys&aBlond became a thing.

\--

“You need to lose those contacts, you look so _much better_ without them.” The voice dipped low in a pleased hum, “are you going to get flustered if sing praise about you? You blush all _pretty_.”

The other man laughed, pulling away from his task with a loud _pop_. “Only if you actually sing it, I’ll make sure to make that voice of yours _crack_.”

Tucker never thought he’d actually subscribe to Wash’s porn channel—he never thought David Washington would actually start _making_ porn, but here he was. Here Tucker was listening to Wash and Felix banter back and forth like they always tended to do. Some days the banter was better, some days it was just a steady stream of conversation—both of them liked to talk and Tucker didn’t even know that about Wash but he was actually quite fond of this new development.

Felix could get him to laugh in the middle of sex sometimes when he’d whisper in his ear and Wash’s laughter was always just… borderline angelic. Contagious at least—and during sex it would crack off into a loud pinched moan when Felix would fuck him _just right_.

Tucker had always hated Felix—he was a son of a bitch and he always rubbed him the wrong way. But, they were Washington’s friends and he wasn’t going to be one of _those_ guys who went all “you shouldn’t hang out with them” ‘cause that just wasn’t cool. And, well, now that Felix had his lips around Wash’s cock head bobbing up and down and the blond under him would arch and thrust up into the other man’s mouth—well, now Tucker could live with this imagery.

Wash’s voice would dip and pitch, a steady stream of praise rolling off his tongue as he cupped Felix’s face and head—pushing and pulling, guiding him up and down on his dick. Felix’s eyes flicked to the camera with a glint in his eyes, he winked and removed one of his hands from Wash’s hips and gestured for something off screen. “Shit, I’m coming,” Wash breathed throwing head back and arching up and off the bed.

Felix pulled off with a closed mouthed grin, leaning towards the camera Felix showed everyone his _prize_ —a mouthful of white fluid. He closed his mouth again and waved someone over from off camera—shit, _shit shit shit_.

Tucker pulled on his dick starting up a steady rhythm as Locus’ lips pressed against Felix’s—mouths open, pushing the cum back and forth with a lick and flick of their tongues (Tucker spotted a dribble of the fluid dripping out the corner of Felix’s lips). Both men pulled away with a grin and a lick to their pierced lips.

Tucker came to the purr of, “taste good right?” that rolled of Felix’s (dirty, filthy, good for nothing but giving head) tongue.

\--

South found out about a month into their business adventure. She wasn’t searching or even _wanting_ to find anything with two dicks in it. No, she wanted the silky folds and the plumb breasts that would jiggle when the individual would bounce (or move).

No, South ended up stumbling upon Washington while visiting the many porn blogs she followed. Some of these blogs would dabble in more than just lesbian porn; it was a personal blog after all, South couldn’t blame the bisexual individual (going off the information in the description of their blog) for collecting vast amounts of porn gifs to suit their fancy. That’s what South did after all, though hers were a narrow focus.

She was searching, not in the mood for any personal fun times (she was looking for later)—class was in an hour and she hated to rush. And that’s when she found it.

Lil’ Wash was riding one of his (boyfriend) friend’s pricks with his boyfriend kneeling behind him (and between the bottom man’s legs), hand tangled in Wash’s hair and pulling him back towards the boyfriend’s chest. The gif looped with Wash bouncing on the man’s cock, adams apple bobbling and the boyfriend bit and sucked marks into freckled flesh.

South stared in shock, mouth wide as she tried to… oh she didn’t know! Maybe rationalize what she was seeing? Because that was certainly Wash’s boyfriend—the brown skin, the hair, the tattoos. That was also the other guy that both of them hung out with; that hair and smug expression was hard to forget.

“CT!” She shouted, her voice shrilled—eyes still never leaving the looping gifs.

CT came storming into her room with a slam of South’s bedroom down, “what? What happened?” she panicked glancing around the room. South only pointed at her computer screen. CT hesitated but ultimately joined the blonde and her reaction did not disappoint. “Is that _Wash_?!” she hissed and leaned in to get a closer look.

They didn’t tell anyone about their discovery, not yet anyways. Though South _really_ wanted to tell Maine— _look at what your ex is doing_ kinda thing. No one ever willingly called her a nice person.

She still wanted to do it.

\--

Today was going to leave him bruised and spent—he knew that as soon as they decided that Vergil would fuck him on screen that day. The man was rough; he bit and the pace he set was brutal. As much as both Felix and Wash loved the rough actions, Wash wasn’t going to be finished with just Vergil… Locus wasn’t _fond_ of Vergil.

Not yet anyways.

Felix brought him into the fold; Felix took a liking to him. Locus referred to the older man as _Felix’s_ —Wash would roll his eyes at that. Felix was very vocal in his wish to share his find (because that’s what he called the man) with both Washington and Locus, as much as the smaller man liked to pretend that the open relationship Locus and Wash shared with Felix was just a casual fucking with… y’know, cuddles and fond kisses at random times.

Washington just thought that Felix was scared—scared of a possibility of maybe he wasn’t aromantic, maybe he was only gray-romantic, Wash could understand that. Could understand that fear of transitioning from one thing to the other because _may_ that last thing was correct. Wash had went from identifying as straight (because that was how he was _raised_ —‘oh that girl is cute Davvy’, or ‘you should totally ask that girl out Dave’) to bisexual (because he _needed_ to hold onto that possibility of dating a female) to straight up homosexual (he couldn’t lie to himself or anyone else from that point on). Wash gets it—if that’s what it was and not just Felix running away from commitment.

Locus didn’t like Vergil when it came to anything… intimate with Wash. The two men got along rather swimmingly when Wash wasn’t curled into Vergil’s side with his head on the man’s shoulder (or fucking). They had similar tastes; they shoot the shit about video games, comics, movies, books. Both closet nerds with a love with the cynical, anti-villain or anti-hero characters in their choice of nerdom culture.

Washington _loved_ it. He rolled around in the nerd speak and the disagreements on what character is better or if the movie/show did a decent enough job on their interpretation on the books. It honestly made him a little hot under the collar to see Locus’ eyes twinkle or squint as he argued, or at times agreed, with the other man.

But right now those eyes were narrowed, watching every path the older man carved with his tongue and teeth and hands. He was memorizing every path to take and cover after they turned off the camera and Locus would kick them out and shed his clothes. He didn’t often talk when Vergil pleasured his _darling David_ , didn’t really want to share in any of his secretes in making the man come undone—to scream and beg and moan wantonly for a sweet, sweet release.

Felix was watching in as well; coloured contacts replaced with thick rimmed hipster glasses as he sat just out of view of the camera with the laptop on his lap. He perched his socked covered feet on the stool and purred happily at the show in front of him and on the screen in his lap—he typed out a reply to one of the watchers.

                **_ThreeGuys &aBlond:_** _nahhh, gotta show off the third man before Lo changes his mind and fucking skins him for touching our boo._

_**ThreeGuys &aBlond: **Gotta have blondie teach ‘im his wicked wicked ways with that tongue!_

Vergil turned just enough to catch Locus’ eye—he smirked, dipping back down to Washington’s neck and sucking a deep, painfully _dark_ mark into the milky freckled skin. Wash groaned, hissing as teeth bit and worked over the flesh.

                **_ThreeGuys &aBlond:_** _I wanna be able to enjoy it later~~_

_**BREEEEEEEDHIM10039:** Fee, tell him to pul blondie har _

_**BigDaddy533:** mmmm have him leave mor marks_

_**ChikaChikaBooooowwww:** if u want ‘im bak no more marks L will kill ‘im_

_**ThreeGuys &aBlond: **ooooh, can’t have that now. _

Vergil pulled his head back as he pushed in, bottoming out in one forceful thrust. Wash and Locus did all the prep before they started rolling; Vergil’s thing was rough. All pulling of hair and uncomfortable positions and bruising sex. It was fun—nice when they weren’t showing off for a camera and only for Felix and Locus. It was nice when Vergil would take his sweet, tortuous time spreading him open and working him up—making his body shiver and hips roll back with each thrust as the man tried to work Wash to the point of screaming without Locus chiming in one of his _many_ personal favourite spots on _his_ blond.

That would just ruin the game—the unspoken rivalry that they started.

It was fun—great even—but only when most of the sex was done with the camera off and they could take hours. With the camera on Vergil was all teeth and claw, rough thrusts that had Wash catching Locus’ eye and holding eye contact as he bit back each and every moan and yelp—it would rumble to a _purr_ in his throat, his lips would always come away bruised and at times bloody.

Wash _liked_ it when Locus’ eyes would narrow and he’d bare his teeth at any escaped groan that would roll from his tongue and hang in the open air. He’d lean forward with his elbows digging into his knees when Wash would begin to touch himself, and ooze with a possessive bitterness when Vergil would bat Wash’s hand away and work him to completion himself.

 **_ThreeGuys &aBlond:_ ** _the best part about this is the ‘game’ that Lo and V had made out of V fucking blondie. And Freckles just eggs them on~ I need to get a camera set up on Lo, you ppl are missin out!_

\--

No one knows how to bring it up; South and CT didn’t exactly _mean_ for them to learn of what was happening with their youngest roommate, but what’s done is done (haha, _done_ ) and CT was always one that believed that you should let sleeping dogs lie (she would be a liar though).

Carolina is flabbergasted, staring at the screen where Wash is being sucked off by his boyfriend who not only has his dick down his throat but also three finger buried in the blond’s asshole.

York is leaning towards the screen with a confused but highly intrigued look in his eyes. “I can’t believe _I_ didn’t think about this?!” is the only thing he says. CT can only assume that he means _start making porn_ and not _get a BJ from a dude_. It would be a little difficult if it were the second option with dating Carolina (still) and all.

North had taken one look at it and sighed, covering his face with his hands. He’d be one of the ones that would most likely have to sit down with Wash and discus this new life choice of his.

That is, if Wyoming and Florida don’t give away their intel by drilling the eighteen year for questions about his sex life and telling him about different possible lighting and/or positions that the four men haven’t gotten to yet.

(Yeah, the fact that there was four of them made most of them exclaim that very number in shock. “WASH IS GETTING FUCKED BY THREE DIFFERENT GUYS?!” was the favourite response. That was the one that CT herself had used)

But the best, and most curious, reaction was from Wash’s ex-bae. The football player had stared at the computer with a look that CT couldn’t even begin to describe—it wasn’t anger, CT knows what Maine angry looks like. It almost looked like he was _curious_ —curious but not surprised.

Surprised to see Wash on screen or whatever else, CT had no idea. But that look haunted her; she wanted to know what the hell it meant.

Did it mean that Wash was into the kinky shit with Maine too? ‘Cause in her time watching her friend get off (hush, she’s a bisexual woman who likes to watch two guys go at it from time to time. Gay porn—and properly done lesbian porn—had foreplay and a dialogue that wasn’t cringe worthy sometimes as well a cute after glows to do along with all the kissing. CT loved the affectionate porn, it was so sweet that it made her teeth want to retire), Wash was into the kinky stuff. CT could fucking tell; she always had that sense about him.

He had that sweet boy-next-door feel about him that screamed **dude’s into weird/hot things**. And if it weren’t for the fact that he was into Maine, then this Locus guy (and in extension now this Felix and dude only known as V) and CT was pretty sure he was strictly only into the D, CT would’ve boned him a long time ago.

But that was another time and another place.

\--

The camera was set up first, recording but not live-streaming, on the figure sleeping on the bed with the blankets pooled around his naked waist. Locus a hand up his back and kissed between his shoulder blades. He stood back up and left frame and out of the room.

Felix was in class and so was Vergil—the man had stayed over the night before in Felix’s bed. Locus could almost laugh at the thought of how Washington _ruined_ Felix in sleeping alone. The blond had a way with worming his way into Felix that Locus had long since stopped caring about. Felix had told his childhood friend time and time again that he wouldn’t take Washington from him—never ever. But Locus was already _sharing_ him with Felix, Wash and Locus had discussed this.

Washington was _in love_ with Locus, he loved the nineteen year old with every fiber of his being. But he was still _into_ Felix as well, he _liked_ Felix. And well, Locus _liked_ Felix too—they knew everything (‘cept maybe one thing) about the other, grew up together, had sex for the first time together—but he was still _hopelessly **in love**_ with David Washington (had been for years and will most likely continue being in love with the guy even when he’s old and gray and senile).

He poured the coffee from the pot of added the sugar and specialty cream that Florida had gotten him hooked on back in October, he stirred the liquid in the large mug, a Jack Skellington mug that Felix had gotten Locus when they went Christmas shopping for Wash before their winter break (neither Felix or Locus’ families celebrated Christmas but Wash’s did and Felix never needed an excuse to spend money and Locus didn’t need a reason to smoother his boyfriend with affection). Locus was a sucker for the classic, it was his sister’s favourite movie and she had made him grow up watching it—it was only obvious from there how his love for the film came into play.

It’s also how that Halloween he nearly died on his own spit when Wash dawned on a pair of heels, Sally’s sown together dress, the blue body paint and a temporarily red head of hair. It was also the first College Halloween party they were ever going to go to, and Wash casually let it slip that he was wearing lacy black panties… well, it was safe to say that Washington nor Locus made it to that party (but Felix did, he got it on with both a Nightwing _and_ a Joker that night. The worst part was that he dressed up like a frat boy and nearly scared himself into not even going).

With the coffee in hand Locus slowly made his way back to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. He cut across the camera frame and set the coffee mug on the nightstand; the man in bed groaned shifting under the sheets and buried his face further into the pillows. Locus huffed pulling his baggy sweater over his head and tossed it towards the overflowing laundry basket—Washington was slowly moving his clothes into his dresser and closet, it was starting to get a little confusing when laundry day would come around and he’d put away all the clothes thinking it was mostly his. Only to go reaching for a shirt a few days later and figuring out while trying to put it on that it was Wash’s by how _tight_ the fabric was.

Now only down to his black, gray and white plaid boxers Locus kneeled on the bed between Wash’s legs. He kissed his exposed back, sucking a mark over the skin pulled tight over his shoulder blade. Wash groaned tiredly, dragging his face along the pillow, “what’re you doin’?” his voice muffled by the pillow.

Locus kissed down his spine until he met the bedding covering his lover’s naked form, “want to make a video?” he inquired, kissing and licking and biting at the dip in the younger man’s spine. Wash pushed up onto his elbows, gray-blue eyes narrowed towards the camera set up—he could see the light on from the bed. “We’re not live-streaming,” Locus adds, slowly pulling the blanket over his bottom and placing kisses against the blond’s freckled ass.

Wash blinked towards the camera, running his hand over his face and whining low in his throat when Locus nipped at the flesh of one of his ass cheeks. His eyes fell shut with each kiss and nip to his ass cheek, slowly traveling towards the crack.

Locus patted the pale globe, the ring around two of his fingers on his right hand added a bit of a bite with each pat, grab and pull. “Coffee is on the nightstand,” Locus informs right as he exposes his lover’s asshole and buries his face in-between the globes of flesh. Like a punch to the gut Wash moaned out; head dropping forward as he pushed up towards the tongue circling around his entrance.

Washington whimpered at the feeling of Locus’ tongue piercing breaching his insides, the metal pressing activating _too many_ sensations too soon. “Ah, b-baby,” he sucked in a breath between his teeth before pushing his hips back again. Locus rolled with him, allowing the blond to push back against his tongue but followed out the movement by pressing the other man against the bed. Wash whimpered again when Locus removed his tongue—biting a mark onto Washington right ass cheek (to help balance it out)—and kissing his way back up his spine.

Locus brushed his hair back from his face and stared at the camera with a wicked grin. He bit and sucked at the flesh on the back of Wash’s neck. His long brown hair slipped down and curtained off his view of the camera as he ground his covered, but hardening, erection against Wash’s bare ass. “Can I?” he ground against him again, a question hidden within the question.

Wash shifted, turning as much as he could while his dick was still pressed against the bed. He brushed the curtain of rich brown hair out of Locus’ face and tucked it behind an ear. “Like,” he licked his lips, pupils dilating, “Like _without_?”

They’ve talked about it—starting to have sex without a condom. It was more of a mess thing now than anything else (a protection, or extra lubricant), easier to clean up after sex. Lube was always easier to wash off/out than semen.

Locus nodded—Wash glanced towards the camera again, then back to Locus. “Want me to turn it off?” Wash shook his head in the negative, pulling Locus’ head up by the scruff of his neck and pressing their lips together. It was a peck, a peck that turned to two—then three, then four. The fourth lead to a longer press and a slide as Wash kept having to brush Locus’ hair out of their faces. The seventh kiss led to mouths opening, teeth knocking and tongues sliding.

Wash would nip and suck at everything close to his mouth—the tongue ring, the lip rings. He’d pull at Locus’ lip or roll his tongue around the ball of Locus’ tongue piercing. “You said there was coffee?” Washington panted against his lips.

“Beside the lube,” Locus replied pulling away from the man and getting off the bed. He watched his lover stretch out, first grabbing the lube and tossing it onto the bed without looking and then reaching for the Jack Skellington coffee mug with a cheeky grin.

Wash arched a blond brow at him and took a sip, eyes falling closed and a low moan building. He shivered and took another sip, “first your favourite mug and now the good stuff—you’re spoiling me.” Gray-blue eyes snapped back towards him as Locus pulled his boxers off; Wash couldn’t help but lick his lips. He took one last (but large) gulp of his hot coffee before putting it back onto the nightstand for later.

The blond sighed at the feeling of skilled—familiar, oh how Washington loved those hands—hands over his ass, up his back and at the base of his neck. He groaned when the man tightened his hold, digging his thumbs into a tender and drawn tight bundle of muscles and worked it loose. He would press an open mouth kiss to each and every spot he would abuse—it made Wash mew, pant, _hiss_ at the feeling.

Neither were gentle the night before in their _love making_ , Wash could catch some discoloration on Locus’ bicep that would match Wash’s hand along with two bruises just under the older man’s jaw—the side pointed away from the camera. Wash _knew_ that his waist was bruised; he _knew_ that he neck and shoulders had marks already there—before the trail Locus had sucked and nipped into him moments ago.

His eyes had fallen shut sometime during Locus’ massage for one popped open at the sound of a cap being opened and the squirting of the lube against Locus’ fingers. Wash hummed, hips swaying back and worth as he wiggled—“c’mon Love,” Washington purred pushing up into the fingers swirling around his hole.

Wash hissed, eyes pinching shut and head flopping back to the bed in shock—he wasn’t expecting two fingers right off the bat, he was expecting them to just _sink_ into him. Pushing, twisting; Wash whimpered when his partner pushing in a third, not giving his body any time to _yearn_ for more before it was given. They had fucked well into the night—until Locus’ legs shook and he could hardly hold himself up as he continued to blow into David; over and over and over.

Wash was still compliant—still _loose_ and pliant from those hours they spent remapping each other’s bodies and souls. Wash was pushing, begging for more—he didn’t even understand half the things coming off his tongue. He was babbling and he was only able to catch a few of the things leaving his lips.

“I want you to fill me up—bury yourself so far into me I’ll be cleaning your cum out for _weeks_.” It was filthy, so filthy and _gross_ but Locus was going to finally fuck him on camera—they were going to post it, and everyone would see how David Washington belonged to Locus. They’d see just how much **_Locus_** belonged to Wash.

Because Wash had _ruined_ him—ruined him for anyone else. Every kiss would make him think of David Washington, every touch—every look and taste, they would all be ruined.

His cock was pressing in and Wash moaned—hips pressing back against the man between his legs. He turned, turned as far as he could without moving his hips along to roll them over—as far as he could with Locus’ dick buried balls deep into his ass. [Locus met him for a kiss, he brushed his hair back—he eyed the camera, a smug challenging look in his eyes—as he kissed the blond](http://studburbia.tumblr.com/post/64818228921/this-is-so-fucking-hot).

His hips thrusting, slow and shallow until Wash broke the kiss and braced himself. He pushed himself back with each thrust, pushing out from the headboard to take the man in deeper—harder. His mouth hung open, “ _shhhit!_ Fuc-ck, right there. Right there, Love.” He whimpered, crying out when Locus grabs at his hair and pulls. His arms shaking under the strain—the jostling, the creaking of the bed and slam of the headboard with each thrust. He groaned, mouth falling open as Locus’ ring covered fingers wrapped around Washington’s prick and pushed him over into completion.

Locus’s chest slotted against his back; hips rolling deep, slow—once, twice, trice before he bit at Washington’s shoulder and his body shuttered as he came.

They remained like that; Wash’s head pillowed by Locus’ pillow (he didn’t even notice that he was on the other man’s side of the bed until now), ass still up and being supported by quivering knees. Locus would kiss at everything in front of him—the scar on Washington’s arm from the time he got hit by that car in tenth grade, or the bite marks on his shoulder, or the freckles that painted his skin like a starry night painting.

“I love you,” Washington turned his head puckering his lips for a kiss.

Locus pressed their lips together, “Love you too D.”

He’d repeat it later, when the camera couldn’t pick up the name _David_. He’d repeat it later when they washed away the sweat and cum. He’d repeat it later when his lover would stuff popcorn into his mouth while they curled up on the living room couch.

He’d repeat it later even though David Washington knew that Locus Reyes was _his_ ; completely and utterly ruined for anyone else. And Locus wouldn’t have it any other way.


	2. Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've gone and labeled the part that's really bad (or what I think). This chapter deals with some serious topics and while I plan on exploring it in a different part in the series I have to have it come to a head here. Can't all be happy and smutty.  
> And while I know I was lucky for having a family that's a little more understanding (yet they did make a comment that had me screaming internally) I know not every family is like that. So I wanted to brush against this topic, again, because as much as I love Wash I always tend to picture him with at least one shitty parent (I'm so sorry).  
> I've also have conversations with people on their views of what child abuse is and how in different cultures the lines are blurred ("if I disrespected my Mom like that she'd beat me" was some of the things they've said). So during the very last part of this chapter I'm warning you for mentions of that.  
> Please, please don't push yourselves to read this. 
> 
> Words that I'm warning (i've tagged "slurs" just in case) about are "whore" and "slut", they're not going to be used in just a dirty/kinky/sexy way with this (between consenting adults who have pre-established that these words were alright to be used in this context and only in this context).  
> Consent is so fucking important and if you're going to talk dirty to your partner(s) with those words in your vocabulary please insure that they're alright with them!!

David Washington grew up in a house that didn’t know he was homosexual. His parents were _understanding_ , they loved him _no matter_ what—but the feeling that surrounded them, and him, when Washington lied and said that he was bisexual scared him. He doesn’t like to think on if that _understanding_ and that _love_ would change if he told them the truth and that he just was never going to have sex with a woman.

David Washington grew up in a household as the youngest child of three. He had an elder sister and a brother (in that order) who had both dated the opposite sex their whole lives. His parents were proud on his sister’s marriage and the baby that was growing up to be a fine young little girl. His brother had a steady job and a roommate who wasn’t an asshole (who would sometimes visit with his brother when he went ‘home’ for the weekend).

There were things every child didn’t want their parents learning.

Felix didn’t want his parents knowing that he was the one that streaked down the block back in eleventh grade. Felix didn’t want his parents knowing that he smoked pot—though they already talked to both Locus and Washington to make sure that he didn’t move on to anything else (“It’s healthy to want to try new things” Felix’s mother had said to Wash when she cornered him coming out of the washroom, “I just don’t want him doing anything more than that.”), and they kept that hidden from Felix while keeping an eye out for him. Felix didn’t want his parents learning about the fact that he held a knife to a guy’s throat.

Locus didn’t want his sister knowing that he smoked pot—cigarettes were originally added to that category but she found out when she flipped through their senior year book (Locus and Felix were smoking in a fair bit of them). Locus didn’t want his sister knowing that some of the shirts that she gives him as gifts were quickly handed off to Washington to wear instead (his sister wants him to wear _colours_ that weren’t _green_ or a dark blue—gray and black weren’t colours). Locus didn’t want his sister to know that he had his nipples pierced—that Felix was talking him into getting his dick pierced as well (Felix was still working on that).

And, well, Washington just didn’t want his parents to know that he was one of the biggest gays to ever gay (he’s worn _lacy panties_ , alright!? Lace.Lime Green.Panties). They had the silent hope that he’d move past his _Gay Thing_ (capitals, the capitals were important) and settle down with a nice _girl_ and have beautiful blond freckled babies.

…that and Wash really didn’t want them knowing that he was getting fucked on camera by three guys.

\--

Victor Brendan Washington was the middle child. Three years younger than his sister and five years older than his brother—he had the _pleasure_ of knowing the bitch that his sister was during high school; heard the rumors about her and her friends, and her and her boyfriends.

He didn’t like the person that his sister was in high school, though she seems to have _matured_ and… evened out in her age and after she had popped a kid out.

Though Brendan wasn’t one to really say if she _truly_ changed or not—he hasn’t seen her for years, he didn’t go back to his ‘rents house when Mindy brought her daughter home and showed her off. He hardly even talked to her or his parents on the phone. Hell, it was rare to even hear _news_ about David.

The last thing Brendan heard about his brother was that he was dating a football player by the name of Maine—a _guy_ , his mother had stressed. Brendan remembers that night, remembers learning about his younger brother ‘coming out’ as Bisexual to the family.

His baby brother was able to do something that Brendan couldn’t do for nearly the last seven years of his life. His parents still thought that he was _single_ —him, SINGLE. He’s been dating his ‘roommate’ since the first year of college! He was twenty-three!

That’s like… five years of dating one guy—he brought him home a few times!

Brendan _knew_ he wasn’t the best brother in the world—he hardly talked to his siblings, only would creep them on Facebook when his parents would message him and tell him to look at a picture of David or Mindy (and the baby). He saw the graduation pictures on his parents’ timeline, saw the proud comments. He saw the pictures where David had two girls on either side (their names tagged as Eta and Iota, twins), he saw the picture where David had his arm wrapped around a black teen’s shoulders and the teen mentioned threw a peace sign at the camera while the tall kid on David’s other side waved with a big goofy grin (their names tagged was Lavernius Tucker and Michael J. Caboose). There were others that starred the same two guys with David—mostly the one but the other one was always lingering close by in the photos.

Locus Reyes and Felix Andrada.

Brendan wasn’t the best brother, but could remember those three faces anywhere. David’s wheat blond hair and freckles, that Locus kid’s piercings and the orange of that Felix kid’s eyes.

He had arrived home, pulling at his tie and kicked off his shoes as soon as he stepped into his apartment. His roommate and boyfriend of five years greeted him with the sounds of watching porn on his laptop in the living room. Brendan couldn’t help by grin—his lover knew just how he loved coming home to after a boring ass day of work. The roommate’s porn always insured that the bae would be ready and rearing to go.

Plus, they were a pair of bisexual men. Sometimes they wanted to see a woman and even with that it didn’t mean that they were any less in love or attracted to the other—they’d kiss and fondle the other while watching, Brendan would wink at his partner and lick his lips.

It wasn’t uncommon of this couple to sit down and watch porn—but that day Brendan saw a sight that he never _ever_ wished to see.

He wrapped his arm around his partner’s neck and kissed his cheek. Brendan spared a glance at the screen and froze— _no._ It couldn’t be, it just _couldn’t_. He leaned forward just as the blond pulled away from the dick in his mouth and moaned, “ _Yeah. Yeah right there, Love.”_

Brendan screamed, “HOLY SHIT!” he jumped over the back of the couch, over his partner and pulled the laptop into his lap in a shock. “THAT’S DAVID!” he screamed again and quickly closing the porn tab and throwing it to the foot of the couch.

“Babe,” his partner touched his arm and Brendan shook him off, standing and pacing in front of the couch. He’d stop, take a step towards the laptop and stop again—he’d continue pacing before repeating.

“That’s my baby brother!!” He shouted at his partner when the other man pulled the laptop onto his lap and away from the conflicted man. The man’s head snapped up and his face broke out into a wavering smile—he laughed, arms wrapping around his torso and crackling madly. Brendan pulled out his phone, thumbing through his contacts for his little brother—he was going to call him, yell at him, then hang up only to do it again!

He kept thumbing through his contacts—nothing for little brother.

He went through his contacts again—no David Washington

He went through them again—no Wash either.

When the hell did he loose his brother’s number?

“You should see the gifs on tumblr!” he partner exclaimed between his fits of laughter. The laptop returned to the coffee table; and Brendan really didn’t want to see—he didn’t need to ever see what face his brother made while sucking a dude off, or the face he makes when someone fucks him. No, he didn’t need to but he looked at the computer anyways.

He couldn’t believe it.

Little David Washington. This was little Davy who chipped his tooth when he was five falling down the stairs. This was his little baby brother who cried and wet the bed until he was ten because of horrible nightmares that he was hospitalized and put on medication when they got worse. This was his wee little brother who called him up during the summer of [his] grade ten and asked him what to do when you liked someone and wanted to date them.

He scrolled through the wall of gifs—there were so many of David and Felix, a few of David and a guy known only as V, and a few of David and Locus. But the ones with David and Locus had more notes—he quickly exited out of the site and opened Facebook.

When the hell did his baby brother start filming himself having sex? Who the fuck were those guys and _why the fuck_ were they doing porn with David?

Brendan had never gone onto David’s Facebook profile page, it took routing through Mum and Dad’s pages to even get to David’s. He went by the name of Wash.

Wash David Washington.

Brendon would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel like he wanted to bleach his brain—he would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that he thought he’d never get a boner again (Brendan had a nice and active sex life with his partner and now it was ruined).

**In a Relationship with _Locus Reyes_**

He clicked on the pictures that he’s never seen before. He went through them all—from college to high school.

There were so many of David and Locus. They were drinking, swimming, walking hand in hand down the street with the sun setting. There were prom pictures and pictures of them lazing around in the grass. There were so many pictures of them kissing—closed mouth kissing, quick pecks, cheek kisses and forehead kisses, there were the kisses taken by someone else of them in the middle of making out.

David was smiling—the whites of his teeth almost blinding and the crooked smile of his almost gone with just how large he was grinning.

Brendan closed Facebook and texted his sister’s number asking for David’s number.

**_Big Sis:_ ** _did you lose it?_

Brendan wasn’t sure—maybe he lost it, maybe he deleted it. He just knows that it’s no longer there and he needed to call David… just… not today.

He’d give it a few more days to sit before he called his brother demanding answers. He’d do the responsible adult thing and approach the matter calmly and maturely.

\--

Washington brushed the hair out of Felix’s face, tipping the man’s head back to pepper his brown skin with kisses. He pressed kisses to his brow, against his closed eyes, against his nose and cheek and chin before finally pressing kisses against the man’s puckered lips. “Tired,” Felix whispered in between kisses, before sliding his tongue into the blond’s mouth and starting that slow drag of tongue against tongue.

“Same,” replied Washington as he kissed the man back. The pair taking up the entirety of the couch, both had been working late into the night on their last assignments before their midterms started. Both working on a seven page essay dealing with their specific social issues; they’ve been at it since two and it was well after four in the morning now—nearly fourteen hours of just writing and searching, typing and sourcing , editing and editing and _more fucking editing_.

They didn’t both to roll off the couch after saving their work, tucking into each other and into the couch. They didn’t shed their clothes, more than content to just sleep with their large sweaters and baggy workout shorts. Felix pulled away from the lazy kiss to pull the blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over them before he tucked himself in the blond’s embrace and both promptly fell into an exhausted slumber.

\--

That one video led to a sudden flood of Lo & Blondie porn, or so that’s what _they_ started calling it (tagging it as). They were tempted to start using their names—so fucking tempted to just blurt out the others names, to create their own group shared blog to post pictures of a non-sexual nature—to _show off_ the fact that this was more than just sex in front of a camera.

It was more than that for Washington—he _liked_ these men he was sleeping with. He loved Locus, loved him more than what he knew what to do with sometimes. Washington loved Felix as well, a sweet taste would linger on his tongue every time he’d kiss him—he’d tangle their fingers together and watch the other man’s eyes as they softened, accepting the touch and pull Washington along to their shared class. Washington _liked_ Vergil; he liked talking to the man, the older man had so many stories about so many different topics. He’d tell Wash about one party or another, he’d tell him about his friends that Wash hasn’t gotten to meet yet (he’s met Girlie, he’s met the guy they’ve named Sniper for the seer fact that he can sink a ping pong ball from anywhere in beer pong, he’s even met Sleeveless (or was his name Manly?) who flirted with Wash upon their first meeting).

He was attached to them and he _knew_ Locus was too.

He knew that with Locus came Felix; they were a pair—two peas in a pod. Ever since he had gotten into a relationship with Locus he knew that Felix would always be there, that the bond between the two was odd and ever shifting. They were like brothers-at-arms, they were the closest friends, and they were lovers. With Felix came Locus; its how it always was and how it would always be.

What needed to be worked on was the relationship between Locus and Vergil—it wasn’t as tense, it was progressing. It wasn’t exactly… the _healthiest_ still, but it was progressing. Washington was aware of polyamory, he was aware of it and he was _trying_ to get this _thing_ that they had going towards that. Towards the healthy, functioning relationship he knows that it could be.

Wash grunted, the breath puffing out into the bedding when Locus flipped him onto his stomach. Washington’s ass up; slapped red and hole stretched open and wide as he bent to the man’s every whim. Both Felix and Vergil watching as Locus utterly dominated him—bending him, tossing him, pressing finger and kisses into places that had Washington’s eyes roll back into his skull.

His arms pinned to his back; Felix moved the camera closer to the foot of the bed, they had moved since the start—moved from the pillows to the bottom corner of the bed; closest to Vergil, close enough for the man to touch them, to press kisses and touches to either or both men playing it for the camera (it wasn’t a game now).

Wash moaned when Locus finally pushed in, his hands still pinning Wash’s arms to his back. Vergil gripped the crotch of his sweat pants, clutching at his covered prick as he watched the two fuck in front of him. He licked his lips, brow creased in thought—he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor then slipped off his sweats. “I’m joining in,” Vergil finally speaks up and Wash feels the grip on his arms tighten.

There’s a silence that falls over them as Wash gauges Locus’ thought process by the ever changing grip that he has on his arms and the sound of Vergil’s breath. “Well you and Lo gotta make out first, c’mon now!” It was a breath of release washing over them when Felix’s laughter snapped both of their attentions from whatever silent conversation they were having.

There was a click of a tongue against teeth before their mouths pressed together. Wash could hear the knocking of teeth and the wet slide of tongues. Wash swore under his breath; he wanted to see this—he wanted to see them _getting along_ enough swap spit. “No fair, I wanna— _ughhh_ fucking,” Locus’ cock, still buried in his ass, dragged against his prostate. The blond’s eyes fluttered—he cursed again when Locus pulled out an inch only to thrust back _in the same fucking spot_. “You’re such ah—such ah, ah—such a fucking _prick_!”

He could hear them pull apart, “I want to fuck him with you. He’s been going on about how he wants to take both of us to F.”

Wash shivered under the looks—hungry, roaming. Shit, why did Felix have to go share that? Locus pulled out completely, the bed moving as he stood from it—Washington whined, face flopping to the duvet. They were kissing again when Washington glanced up, the camera pointed at the clash of tongue and teeth as both Vergil and Locus refused to back off.

If they were going to do this—if they were to both fuck him—Wash would have to get himself into place, would have to choose where they’d lay (because they’d lay down this time). He’d be the one that’ll have to pull them apart and force them into a position that would be comfortable—plausible for them to _fuck_ in.

Wash pushed himself up, pulling Locus away from the older man—back to the bed; he tugged silently at his hand when he hesitated. “C’mon love,” Wash purred and the man finally broke from the battle—finally coming back to David, back to the moment that they were in. Locus’ green eyes softened, “I wanna face you. Come back to the bed.”

There was no hesitation as Locus settled back into the bed, his head at the foot of the mattress. The blond threw a leg over a brown waist and gripped the hardened cock with a well practiced ease—the slide of the prick slipping into him was like welcoming an old friend and as Washington sunk down he allowed a sigh to spill. He turned towards the hand, the lips against his jaw and taking the man’s tongue into his mouth.

The blond, handled with such care, was pushed towards Locus—chests flushed together and Wash broke the kiss to nip at one of the silver rings pushed through the man’s bottom lip. Vergil lined his slicked up and covered cock; Wash whimpered—gasping when the man began to push his way in.

This wasn’t the first time—wasn’t the first time he’s taken two cocks into his ass at the same time. It was even _close_ to the first time—he was fond of the Locus-Felix pair fucking him hard; no use for talking, the time for taunting them both would be over as soon as the second man lined up his dick.

But this was Locus and _Vergil_.

 These were the two that could toss him around, fuck him to the bed without hesitation, would bruise and Wash’ll ache in places that years ago he didn’t even know _existed_ and he’d hurt for _days_ —so many beautiful aches, so many fantastic days spent sucking in a breath when he’d shift in his seat.

These were the two that could _dominate him_ —completely.

“Think we can get him to scream?” Vergil’s tone made him shiver; made his eyes flutter closed, made his knees quake under the _power_ behind each thrust. Wash bit at his lip; he wouldn’t make this easy, wouldn’t just roll over and bare throat as much as he’d like the sound of it.

Locus _laughed_ (he fucking _laughed_ ), “grab his hair. I’ll take his neck and collar you work at his ear.”

Vergil gripped the longer blond strands of hair on the top of Washington’s head, pulling back his head and exposing that pale column of freckled neck that Locus quickly took to sucking and biting. “Ah— _son of a bitch!_ ” Wash moaned out, mouth hanging open.

Vergil tugged at the studs in his ears, one hand still holding his hair, “open your mouth.” Washington’s mouth dropped open—moans, whimpers, choked off gasps rolling from that tongue of his. If he wasn’t so full—if those two cocks weren’t fucking the very breath from his lungs—Washington would’ve questioned the demand. He would’ve questioned why when Vergil released his hair and a new hand took its place, he would’ve questioned if not for the cock sliding into his mouth.

“Only ever happy when you’ve got all our cocks out,” only Felix would purr like that. Only Felix slowly work Washington’s mouth onto his prick, allowing his teeth to slide gently down the length. “You’re such a slut.”

Each thrust sent Felix’s dick further down his throat—nudging back against his throat and every one of his moans muffled.

“So fucking beautiful; your mouth is _sinful_ , baby. Wanna see it wrapped around my dick every moment of the day—you’d like that wouldn’t you? On your knees all day while we fuck your face.” The fingers tangled in his hair kept him still as Locus groaned, thrusting harshly up into him. The hand under his jaw kept him grounded as Felix fucked into his mouth. Vergil’s hands on his hips kept him rocking into back onto the cocks buried balls deep.

Wash’s eyes fell shut, tears gathering in the corner as he choked down Felix’s cock—he gag reflex long since eliminated (back when he was only sucking Maine’s dick and wanted to take all of that quote ‘n quote ‘monster cock’ into his mouth. He did it, for the record). His head was swimming, lungs hurting under the lack of oxygen—shit… shit.

“How’s that?” Vergil’s deep voice rumbling in his ear as he rolled Wash’s studded earring between tongue and teeth. His grip bruising on Washington’s hips, “everything you dreamed of? Do you think of this when they’re fucking you? Wishing I was in someone else’s place?”

His head was swimming, his nerves pricking. His lungs were _killing_ —his neck and shoulders screaming at him. For once Felix was silent, silent and mouth slacked as he fucked the blond’s face. He was out of it—so fucking out of it.

Locus’ hands reaching for pulse points; a finger digging into the spot between jaw and neck, the other planted against the blond’s chest. The hand on his chest quickly left, his head was swimming—swimming in ways that bit into panic.

The voices in his ears falling to a dull murmur—he couldn’t breathe, _fuck he couldn’t breathe_. Felix’s dick left his throat; Wash sucked in lungful after lungful of oxygen. “Shit—fucking hell,” Felix cursed and quickly ripped the feed out of the camera.

It was only after Vergil pulled out, after he was being handed off to the older man and wrapped into a throw blanket Wash has carried into Locus’ room sometime last night that Wash could feel the tears rolling down his face—could feel his body shaking. His lungs still stinging; “I’m fine—I’m fine,” he croaked out when Locus brought the bright orange curly straw to his lips and he sucked down the liquid inside.

“Just startled me,” Wash explained as Felix apologized—over and over, in-between feather light kisses to his abused lips, in-between lingering kisses to his cheeks and chin. Vergil tucked the blond between Locus and himself, their large bodies trapping him in his cocoon of a blanket. Felix draped himself over the trio as he brushed the lingering tears from Washington’s face.

“I’m fine,” he tried again and was pulling into a kiss by Locus. A solid press of lips against his—familiar, so loving in its nature. Vergil pressed a kiss against his jaw; quick, simple. He repeated it on the cluster of freckles on Washington’s cheek and Wash turned away from Locus’ kiss and accepted one from Vergil. Where Locus’ was familiar this was new, new but no less loving—he could taste the worry on his lips, the taste lingering even as he pulled away and Felix smooshed their mouths together.

“Fucking hell David,” he pressed a series of them to the blond’s lips. “Don’t you ever let me do that again—fucking scared the _shit outta me_. Don’t think I’d forgive myself for hurting you,” another kiss. “Don’t you forgive me for this either,” he kissed him again and again, “don’t you fucking _dare_ you caring bastard.”

But he did.

That’s the closest thing that he’d get to an ‘ _I love you’_ from the man—and Wash couldn’t fight the grin breaking out over his lips as the man continued to place kisses to them.

-[WARNINGS FOR THIS PART AND ONWARD]-

**NEW FACEBOOK NOTIFICATION:**

**_Courtney Thompson_** _tagged you in a picture._

_**Joyce Washington** commented on a picture you were tagged in_

_**7 others** commented on a picture you were tagged in_

Washington hardly came back to his house anymore, he’d much rather spend his time in Locus and Felix’s apartment. It was easier that way; plus Vergil was there all the time now too (when he wasn’t working or in class) but he needed more clothes and he was still paying rent money with this place so he needed to _eventually_ return.

His roommates were hiding something from him—he could tell when Connie and South couldn’t contain their snickers when York pointed out the two hickies on his neck. He could see it with the hitch that North and Carolina’s jaw took, as if they were going to sit him down and talk to him about his part of the rent (he was paying it, hasn’t missed or was late a payment), like his dog had just died (that dog was long dead thanks, not need to bring that back up). He could see it when he and Maine looked at each other for a little too long and the man would look away with a blush creeping up his neck.

Wash hadn’t looked at his phone once that day—okay, not since he came back from class that day. When it rang he _assumed_ it was either Felix or Vergil (Locus wouldn’t have called until closer to midnight); assumptions were a horrible thing to fall prey to when you’re in the living room with a bunch of your roommates watching television ‘cause _fuck it and fuck projects_.

“DAVID ELLIOT WASHINGTON!” His heart _stopped_ and Carolina, on the other side of the room, stared at the phone in awe as the woman screeched into it. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Washington stared at the phone in his hand too scared to even _think_ about bringing the device to his ear.

“I think you should take that conversation up to your room,” Connie pointed towards the stairs, eyes understanding—sad as clicked her tongue and winced.

Wash scurried, pressing the phone to his ear as he bounded from the room and up the stairs. “Mum,” he started, shouldering into his room and quickly closing the door behind him. “Mommy,” he’s pulling out all the tricks for this one, “I don’t know what you’re getting upset about. What did I do?”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?! HAVE **YOU** NOT BEEN MAKING **PORN WITH THAT BOY AND HIS FRIEND?!** ”

Oh. _Oh SHIT!_

“Mom,” _oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_ , “Mom it’s a completely legitimate job, I’m not going to do it the rest of my life—just getting some money so you don’t have to help me with school and rent.” He had no idea how _she found out_ —she only really ever seemed to be addicted to Facebook and the games.

All he was met with was a wall of silence.

There was nothing for a solid minute before he realized that she put him on hold—his mother put him on _hold_. The butterflies in his stomach thrashed as one minute became two. “You better be at your house and you better walk outside those doors right this second _or so_ help me David.”

It was like walking to his death—the dead dial tone in his ear, the numbness as he left his room (grabbing Locus’ green sweater on his way out) and walked down stairs. Connie and South wished him luck as he slipped on his shoes; Florida and Wyoming patted his shoulders before he left.

His Father sat behind the wheel, his Mother beside him and his _brother_ sitting in the backseat looking ready to blow his brains out with a shotgun. When Brendan spotted him he waved him off _‘RUN AWAY’_ he mouthed but it was too late for him. Wash was a dead man; his parents would kill him, his brother would learn about it and laugh at him at his funeral.

He slink into the backseat, the seat right behind his Mother, and the woman’s head whipped around before the car was even out of the driveway. “I didn’t raise _sluts_ , David,” she hissed and turned back in her seat. “ _Three guys_ ; **THREE**. You told us you liked _women too_ , David—I have yet to see you date a woman. What do you think they’d say—what do you think they’d _think_ when they find out you’re being _fucked_ like some common _whore_?!”

Wash ground his teeth together, clenching his eyes shut as his mother clawed her way into him. Tearing chunks out of him with every word, with every breath.

“I lied, okay.” David forced his eyes open but he still couldn’t force himself to look away from the window, could look away from the scenery as they pulled up onto the highway. “I don’t _like_ girls; I’m never going to like girls. I thought you’d _still love me_ if you thought that there was a chance that I’d like women.” He shouldn’t be tearing up, shouldn’t be showing weakness during this moment. “This family hasn’t exactly been _accepting_ ,” he hissed.

“Those boys are using you. They’re using you and you’re too naïve to see it—what if you change your mind? What if you want to settle down and have children with a woman, you’re not _thinking_ David. You’re not thinking with the right head; you’ve always been a smart boy, and we’ve been accepting and understanding in regards to you wanting to test out who you are but you need to think about the future—”

His palm slammed against the door, “ **you’re not listening**!” His voice cracked as he finally turned his attention away from the window—finally looking towards his brother who was tucked towards the door, away from the conflict, away from Mother’s simmering rage boiling beneath her skin. “It’s always about _kids_ and _marriage_ with you! Why are you always hounding _me_ about this?! You were never like this Dan or Maria. Never was on _their_ case about dating or who their crushes were.”

And that’s exactly when his phone decided to ring that obnoxiously loud ringtone that he set for Vergil— _Drones_ by Rise Against, one of the many bands that they had near constantly playing through their stereo system.

His mother plucked the device from his fingers before he could even answer it (or silence it). The woman answered, “Who’s this.” It wasn’t a question and Wash wanted nothing more than to jump from the moving car—wanted to smear his guts along the tar. “I’m his _mother_ —yeah, _oh shit_. Who am I speaking to? Mmhm.”

 _Please just give it back_. He covered his face in his hands; tucking himself against the door—into himself as his Mother remained on the phone with one of his _boyfriends_.

They… they never really _talked_ about it—never really made a big deal of it. Locus and Wash are the item; those two were the ‘for sure’. But Felix came and went—he asked for permission, he always returned. It _worked_ , it kept Felix sane—the thought of romance scared him, the possibility that his aromantic label being _wrong_ terrified him more than he’d ever like to admit. Neither Wash or Locus minded the man coming and going; ‘ _I need to get my pussy fill somewhere, right?_ ’ being Felix’s main excuse.

It was _fine_ —it didn’t have to make sense for anyone else, _it made sense to **them**_.

And Vergil… Vergil was the newest; he was the newest piece and they were _working on that_. Working on how he fit in with them; they were working on the Locus-Vergil dynamic more than anything else. They let him go off like Felix—he asked permission, he came back, he didn’t have sex with them (didn’t feel comfortable in doing so). Vergil and Locus would throw their socks at each other, arguing about their opposing headcanons for shows or games or comics. Vergil would offer Wash piggyback rides when he got found on campus and pouted at him long enough. Felix earned himself a permanent bed warmer—he complained that the apartment was too cold and Vergil was a heater, that it was only _fair_ after Locus hogs Wash all to himself.

“Are you one of my son’s boyfriends—alright, then let me phrase this _better_. Are you fucking my son; yes or no?” _That_ hurt—Wash knew the answer to her first cut-off question. He knew just by that _tone_. Vergil had said no; Wash could feel the tears gathering.

 _What was that saying about assumptions?_ He clenched his eyes shut, grinding his teeth and smothering out the rest of the conversation before his Mother ended the call and stuffed his phone in the glove box. “Not even _dating_ —you’re fucking people you’re not even in a _relationship_ with. Letting them violate you online—!”

His Father placed a hand on his wife’s; “that’s enough. You’ve made your point.”

 _What was that saying about assumptions?_ Washington thought, sobbing into his knees as he cradled his head—the long green sleeves of Locus’ sweater hiding him away from the car. _It makes an ass out of you and me._

\--

Vergil stared at the phone in his hand just as the other two men dove to pull out theirs. Firing off text after text—even they had to know that Wash would most likely not get it. “Text your sister,” Felix pulled up his family contacts; he sent a message to both of his parents. “Tell her to look out for Wash, if he needs a place to crash.”

_“My parents think I’m bisexual—it’s easier to just leave it at that, y’know? Let them think that I might end up with a woman, married off and with a brood of blond freckled children.”_

Of course Vergil heard that story; he was the one that asked for it.

\--

It was late; so late that it was early. Closing in on three in the morning when a knock sounded on her door and she flipped the lights on behind her as she went to answer it. On her doorstep stood one David Washington; blond hair tucked under the hood of the sweater that she bought Locus when he came home during winter break. The last of winter cold lingering, the spring heat not yet upon them as the winter just seemed to drag out, nipping at his exposed flesh and staining the pale skin tone a bright red.

“Can,” she could hear his teeth chattering as he wrapped his arms tighter around himself. “Can I stay here tonight? I could sleep on the couch, or in Locus’ bed—I’ll be gone in the morning,” there wasn’t a car in her driveway, only fresh tracks in the snow that blew onto the shoveled sidewalk. Wash had _walked_ here; easily a thirty minute walk, and in nothing but jeans a sweater and some worn and torn pair of converse.

The woman pulled him inside wordlessly, closing and locking the door behind him. “Wash,” she turned pulling the slightly shorter man into an embrace. Reyes genes made for tall children, all of them easily six feet and over in height. “Darling,” she pressed her hands to his freezing face, brushing the hood back from his face and stared at the swollen lip and bruised cheek.

“I talked back—it’s okay.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes, wouldn’t stop tonguing at the swell in his lip. “Mum didn’t mean it, just cares a little much—y’know,” he trailed off. Locus and her parents had passed many _many_ years ago, leaving her to take care of her little brother who was thirteen years her junior.

She shook her head, taking the blond’s face between her hands. “A slap to the back of the head is one thing; only under extreme circumstances, but a parent shouldn’t _have_ to hit their child. A parent’s ‘firm hand’ does not leave bruises or _fear_ —not a constant fear that remains.” Her parents have given her a quick slap to her arse as a child, had taken her by the ear and dragged her up to her room. They had stopped when she was _thirteen_ though; she was _too old_ for that, old enough to be _reasoned with_ or _talked to_.

“I’m _not_ scared,” Wash squared his shoulders, pulling out of her grasp and bent down to untie his shoes.

The woman didn’t say anything, not when she heard him whisper it to himself again—then again, then again when she tucked him into Locus’ bed. Locus’ green sweater still covering his shivering form; she plucked the jeans that he had slipped off from the floor, folding the garment before slipping it over the back of Locus’ desk chair. She didn’t comment on it when he repeated it to himself again when she turned off the light and slipped from the room.

She didn’t comment on it when she began to turn off all the lights in the house, returning to her bed and taking her phone in hand. **_He’s tucked in; I have him_**. She closed the conversation with her brother and turned the bedside lamp off as the light from her phone illuminated the bedroom.

_Is he okay?_

She rolled over, ignoring the buzz as another text came in. She ignored the other two as well; she didn’t exactly _know_ what to tell him. It wasn’t really her story to tell, wasn’t really her _place_ to share.

So she did the only thing she could do; she clenched her eyes closed and willed herself to sleep.

 _We’re coming down tomorrow, make sure he doesn’t leave_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have Wash and Brendan using two different names for their sister i'm just going to go ahead and write her full name here just so avoid and confusion. "Amanda Maria Washington" is her name but she goes by the nickname "Mindy" too.


	3. Snap, Crackle, and Roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if Locus won’t love me anymore?” He whispers, his eyes water but not yet prepared to fall. “What if everything was a lie? What if my mom was right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a roller-coaster of emotions. Buckle in!! :D  
> (OMG just let me get back to the smut damn it)

Washington woke with a jolt, heart beating wildly in his chest and he reached out behind him where Locus would be—where Locus always was. He was met nothing; a cold bed too small for the apartment and a throb pulsing from his face. _Oh_ , he clenched his eyes shut and hissed at the pain—could see the blood crusted onto the pillow from where he slept.

He stared wide-eyed as the door opened and Locus’ sister stepped in all wrapped up in a fluffy canary yellow housecoat. Her lips pulled up into a small smile, “afternoon sweetheart,” her long legs covered by white and pink pajama pants with smiley faces closed the space between the door and bed easily. She brushed a hand through his hair, mussing it up on top and into the style that she always sees him with—he looked more himself like that.

Less… _broken_.

Rea took his hands in hers when she sat, hip pressed against his leg. “Do you want anything to eat? Coffee?” her thumbs rubbing over his knuckles, pressing and twirling the thick dark metal band he had wrapped around his left middle finger. It was one of Locus’ rings—Wash’s favourite of his collection, the one he’d always slip on when he’d return back to his place that he shared with his roommates.

He shook his head, “can you call Locus? My phone is dead,” he stared down at their intertwined fingers. He didn’t want to be seen with the right side of his face bruised, the crusted over scab where his Mother’s ring caught. He had just _stood there_. Stood there and let her hit him, slap him—yell at him.

The words hurt more than anything. He has broken bones before, had gotten stitches, been hit by two different cars. Washington was, and _is_ , covered in scars and bruises from bumping into things.

Her hold tightened, “they’re… already here sweetling.” His breath caught— _they_. They; she had said _they_ —meaning not just Locus. How was he to stand in front of them? _They don’t love you_ , he pulled his hands from hers and tucked them under his armpits.

 _Felix doesn’t love you_ , his mind whispered as he feels her touch his undamaged side of his face. _He doesn’t love you and never will_ —it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, but it did. It hurt more than it should’ve, more than he was even prepared for. Yesterday had kicked open old wounds and lingering doubts, unanswered questions that he was too scared to ask.

They were doing so well—Locus and Vergil where cuddling now off camera, they had kissed under prompting but they had still _kissed_. _Vergil doesn’t love you; never had and never will—nothing but a fuck_ , he clenched his eyes shut and turned from Rea’s touch.

What if Locus stopped loving him now? What if it was a lie? What if this whole relationship between them was some huge joke between him and Felix?

“David,” he flinched at his name, back slamming back against the headboard as he pressed himself flat. “Wash,” when he opened his eyes all he was greeted with was _Rea_. Her long dark brown hair pulled high into a bun, her pine green eyes filled with worry and compassion and… _love_. “Wash, you don’t need to go with them. You can stay here with me; just you and me. We can watch Gossip Girl in our pajamas— _you don’t need to leave_ ,” she grips his shoulders and pulls him to her, wrapping him tight in her arms.

“What if Locus won’t love me anymore?” He whispers, his eyes water but not yet prepared to fall. “What if everything was a lie? _What if my mom was right?_ ”

She does nothing but grip him tighter. Her heart clenching at the change of this _boy_ in her arms—this wasn’t the David Washington who her brother told her about, this wasn’t the David Washington that she taught to dance, this wasn’t the David Washington who she laughed with while they both learned to pole dance. This was a David who had too many doubts, too many fears that he’s been fed—too, too too many of which surfacing all at once.

“Lies,” she hissed, “they’re lies. Locus loves you—he won’t stop loving you now. You didn’t hear him yesterday, didn’t smell him when he walked into this house. I had to spray him with almost the full canister of Frebreeze to even get _some_ of the smoke smell off him. I had to tackle him in the hallway to get him from coming in here to carry you back home with him.”

She pressed a kiss to his temple and he nodded, leaning out of her touch and allowing her to fuss over him a moment further. “I just want to go back to the apartment,” _home_ , his mind supplied and he ignored it. He had his doubts, what that inner voice speaking to him in nothing but negativity. “Just… just give me a moment. Please?”

“I’ll tell them you’re getting ready.”

\--

Locus wouldn’t stop smoking, couldn’t stop lighting one cigarette almost right after the other. He was chain smoking. He never really fell prey to the clutches of nicotine, not like Felix or Vergil, not unless he was worked up—nervous more than anything.

But he wasn’t just nervous. There was fear too. There was a fear gripping his heart even with the text coming in from his sister and the ten that he shot off to her right afterwards.

He was going to bring Wash back home, was going to bring him back home and _keep him_ here until he was smiling and happy, and just… _his Washington_. Until his smile could brighten the world up. Fuck—fuck, fuck.

They drove down from campus, back to the city that they lived in—two solid hours with Locus smoking nearly one cigarette after the other. Going through his own then moving on to Vergil’s who tossed them wordlessly back. The whole car ride down that back window had disappeared into the door.

\--

He was nervous, his hand covering his right side of his face when he finally met them in the living room. It was like no time had passed—all seated in their silently claimed seats. All but Vergil who took the spot of the loveseat with Felix, the spot had always been empty before—Wash crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits.

Vergil spotted him first; always the observant one, always the sensible one. “Shit Wash,” his words barely a whisper as he stood from the cushions; he couldn’t look away from the bruising on the blond’s cheeks, the swell of his lip and how _he couldn’t look at him_.

Washington pulled the sweater wrapped around his torso tighter, he wanted to disappear—away, far far away when Locus and Felix stood and the smallest of the group caught sight of his face. He knew Locus would be livid; he’d press and pry about it—but when _Wash_ was ready. Locus would’ve taken him home and silently raged the whole time; but Felix wouldn’t.

Wash really didn’t want to listen to Felix.

Didn’t want to listen to his compassion and _who did this to you_ and _why the fuck didn’t you hit back_ or _why the hell to you let her do this_? He didn’t want to listen to him blame him on the situation—didn’t want it covered by some sort of compassion that he had no right to.

Both he and Vergil had _told_ _his mother_ that they weren’t together; they weren’t, and Felix was never going to _be_ with him.

When Washington turned, breaking out of the hold that had his damaged face on display, Locus watched—he was always watching. Watching as Wash flinched away from Vergil’s touch, stiffened and broke away from Felix’s and completely avoided Locus’ gaze (but not his touch. He didn’t move from that). “Let’s get you home,” Locus pulled the hood down further over his boyfriend’s face, watching as his shoulders dropped now that it was covered.

“Okay.” Just like that, just like that Locus tucked Washington into his side and started to leave. Throwing a quick _thanks_ and _take care_ to his sister but never stopping that forwards movement. He was going to get Wash home—going to wrap him in all his blankets and tuck him into bed, wrapping himself around the cocoon of blankets and blond hair.

\--

Rea pressed a hand against the center of Locus’ chest, the man snarled pushing forwards. “Don’t you dare,” the woman warned, eyes narrowing up at the taller man. Felix and Vergil lingered just behind him, lingering and wanting to push past but _it wasn’t their fight_. This wasn’t their house, this wasn’t their family—it wouldn’t be right.

“Get out of my way, Rea.”

The last ounce of _peace_ —calm, worry, compassion—drained from her face, all that remained was determination. Determination leading to a hint of rage. “Go back to the living room, sit and tell me what the hell is going on first or I won’t let Washington leave this house.”

Locus grinds his teeth; his breath is coming out in puffs, hot and heavy between them as he quickly debates if he could take her—if he _should_. Rea is ready for it, ready for the possibility that he’d make a break past her.

Wash brought the best and worst out in her brother. She’s seen so many new sides of him since he fell in love with the blond. She’s seen the compassion, how gentle he could be—has seen him _in love_ and laughing without a care in the world. She’s seen him protective (possessive too) of Wash to the point where she had gotten a call from the school informing her of a fight and three day suspension, has seen him jealous, has seen him rub someone’s face in the fact that Wash was taken.

“Locus,” the man that she had never met before now spoke up. Locus attention shifted, shifted from her to the hallway behind her before he finally turned towards the other man. The man tilts his head back towards the living room. “Not going to get any closer,” and Rea likes him, likes how he’s thinking past just _Wash_ and using common sense.

She thinks his name is Vergil, she’s going based off the pictures he’s been tagged in on Facebook and the mentions of that name in conversations she’s had with Locus lately.

Three names: Wash, Felix and Vergil.

Those were the three names that always left his mouth when she’d get him talking.

\--

It’s awkward.

The radio is off, the car smells like someone smoked too much and yeah—yeah, Wash can see the packs are smokes by his feet as Locus wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds him pressed against his side. He’d rather sit by the window; rather have a seat to hide behind when the looks get annoying. He can’t, he can’t and he’s unsure if he should just curl up against Locus and ignore the atmosphere threatening to suffocate them all.

The pregnant pause is drawing out into silence, “can we talk about this when we get home?” he just doesn't want to have this talk in a two hour car ride. He doesn’t want to be _trapped_ in this conversation where he had no hope of leaving. He wasn’t comfortable, wasn’t… feeling… _safe_.

“You shouldn’t have let her do that,” Felix brings up again, like the strings holding him back were finally cut. The floodgates down and all that fury and shock tumbling out of him without the man pausing to consider just what exactly he was hinting at with those words and that tone. “Hit her back—stick up for yourself or something, fuck. Just because she gave birth to you, doesn’t mean that she can fucking kick the shit outta you!”

It hurt. Everything was hurting—his head, his face, his fucking _heart_. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to remember this the whole two hours that he had to spend in this damn car with them. Didn’t want to be reminded of what he thought he had only for it to be thrown in his face. “Oh shut the fuck up!” he snaps, voice cracking. He wants to curse himself out for the weakness, the failure in his voice that gave away just how affected his truly was. “We’ll talk when we get back to the apartment.” When Wash can change out of these clothes, take a shower and clean his face.

That shut Felix up for a bit, at least for a bit. The smaller man turns back in his seat, brown eyes narrowed at the car in front of them as he stewed. They’re not used to this—not used to the heavy silence over them. There’s always been at least one conversation going on between them before, always something Felix would be cackling about or Wash throwing that grin of his at. Vergil’s hand reached for the power button on the radio when, "so you can avoid it, run away like a coward?"

It’s like a cord snapped. A snap and flare—and explosion of built up hurt and _doubt_ and rage.

"We aren't even dating! The both of you made that so fucking clear. This," Washington points to himself and makes a sharp triangle like motion to Felix and Vergil, "this right here has been nothing but fucking—if I fucking heard everything correctly."

"Wash—" both Vergil and Felix are quick to jump in.

"Don't you _Wash_ me. I've made the mistake already of going around referring to the three of you as my partners. _That's_ on me. And _this_ ," he pointed to his bruised face, "this is between Locus and I. So if you **suddenly** decide that you’re a part of this,” he gestured violently to both Locus and himself, “sure have a say. But if not, turn around and shut the fuck up!”

\--

She took her seat in her recliner, making note of the placements all the others fell into—same, still sitting in their preferred placements. They looked to Locus and he glanced back and shrugged as if to say that he had no other choice.

He didn’t glance back to her, green eyed gaze staring at the magazines on the table in front of the couch. “We’ve,” he paused and winced at the thoughts running through his head. “We’ve been creating porn,” Locus’ eyes narrow, not liking how that sounded in the open.

Felix snorted, “That’s putting it lightly. How about rewording that? Y’know, ‘hey Rea! Yeah Felix, Vergil and I fuck Wash’s brains out in front of people on the internet for money.’ That sounds more like the case and not someone writing erotica about some dudes fucking.” He bit the corner of his thumb, picking at the skin and sticking the tip of his tongue out when he got it.

The woman stared.

Vergil sighed digging the palm of his hands into his eyes, “god damn it Felix.” He was tired; tired and sore and _worried_. He didn’t need Felix’s mouth fucking it up any more than it tended to do. “You claim to be the ‘people person’ yet you know _nothing_ about tact,” he hissed dragged his palm down his face.

“I’m _great_ with people; I just don’t _see the benefit_ of drawing this out any longer than it needs to be!” Felix shrugged, waving off the comment. “We make porn, we get paid. We have a shit ton of fun while doing it—sure, there’s _emotions_ behind this sex.” Both Locus and Vergil stared at him with their hands covering their mouth, glaring at him as he _just kept going_. “Mostly felt by these two,” he points to both Vergil and Locus, “but honestly I don’t see what the big deal is. We’re doing out thing and paying bills in the process—just one less thing to worry about, yeah?”

“Except when Wash turns up on my doorstep at three in the morning, face battered and bloodied. And the added factor of his _mother_ had hit him because of this!” She snapped at the smallest man. It wasn’t supposed to be her story; it wasn’t supposed to be her thing to tell. “And _you_ ,” she turned to her brother, “you’re supposed to be the _smart one_! Did you not, oh _I don’t know_ , think about the possibility of people finding out? People coming up to you and recognizing you?”

Locus couldn’t look at the woman, couldn’t look at Rea as she scolded him. He had thought about it, about the possibilities of their family catching wind of it. He didn’t expect… well, _this_. He was disgusted, disgusted with how _his_ idea led to this—led to _his_ Washington getting the shit end of the stick.

“How is he?” Rea’s attention shifted to Vergil.

“Out of it,” she replied, “sleeping right now though. I’ll go wake him up?”

\--

Wash was never a crier—he didn’t cry when he got hit by those cars, he didn’t cry after his relationship with Maine had to be… ‘put on a permanent pause’. He didn’t like the feeling of crying—how it made his face all blotchy, how he’d cry with his whole body, how he couldn’t cry quietly.

He wasn’t an _attractive_ crier, not even anywhere close to the sense.

So when he felt his eyes start to prickle, eyelashes growing heavy and fingers starting to shake, he quickly shrugged Locus’ arm off shoulder. The radio a dull murmur in the background, anything to help to release them from that suffocating silence. He thought that he could make it, thought he could ignore the part that wanted to curl up and tear his lungs out of his chest.

His hands shook as he pulled the hood further over his head, they continued to shake even after as he clenched and unclenched them in his lap. Locus took hold of his knee, smoothing out the creases on his jeans in silence. Wash didn’t _know_ what he wanted anymore, didn’t know if he wanted to curl into his arms and bury his face into the crook of his neck or if he wanted to push him away.

He knew when his breath started catching, started to heave in his chest—puffing out with a violent exhale only to catch on the inhale—that he was going to bawl. He knew when he started to shake, to curl in on himself, that he was going to cry. He knew when he covered his head with his arms, when his breath caught loudly and a sob tore its way out of his throat—out of his _lungs_.

Washington never really cried but when he did it was painful—he cried with his whole being, all the anguish pouring from his person in rivers of tears and snot.

Locus’ hand splayed out on his back, rubbing down his spine while the other unclipped both their seatbelts. He felt hands hauling him up from his fetal position, out of the seat belt and into Locus’ lap—Wash clung. Washington clung to the man without a thought, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in his neck.

Tears and snot, sobs and breath all soaking into the jacket Locus was wearing. “I’ve got you, Love,” Locus whispered, pressing kiss after kiss to his temple. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” He wasn’t going to stop him, wasn’t going to shush him—he _needed_ this, needed the ugly painfully sobbing that tore in his throat and caught in his lungs. He needed the feeling of being held while he broke down, knowing that at least _one_ person would be there to help Washington if he needed the help being put back together.

\--

Vergil nodded, brow rising in the rearview mirror when he caught Locus’ gaze. _Should I pull over?_ He questioned silently, the car flying over the highway at speeds that a cop might label as racing.

Locus shook his head in the negative; _just get us home_.

It’s the only thing he could think to do while Wash’s sobbing slowly started to level out, knocking him out on top of the man. Locus never loosened his hold; he held him tight throughout it all, hands and fingers tracing shapes and words into his back and hip, lips pressing against the hood covering that blond head of hair.

\--

They had about another half an hour left to their ride back home when Vergil pulled up into a rest stop for a shot of caffeine and a breath of fresh air. He’s been doing nothing but driving, white knuckled gripping that steering wheel, for four hours.

Sitting on the pavement in front of the front end of the car he ran his hands through his hair, tugging—pulling at the roots in an effort to ground himself as Felix went in to grab the beverages. The car door shut and a pair of boots quickly joined him at his side. He followed them up, followed it up to the jeans then the jacket then the dark skin that gave way to _Locus_. “You like us, right?” the younger man sank to the ground beside him, their shoulders toughing.

“More than I thought I would,” Vergil answered simply. There was no use denying it, not when he’s been thinking nothing else for the last few hours—how to get back what _he fucked up_ , how to fix the stack of assumptions and misunderstandings.

“Good.” Locus rests against him, taking in a breath like he hasn’t had a breath of air in _years_. “Wash cares, he gets attached—feels everything with… well, everything. It’s not surprising when he started to care about Felix romantically; Felix and I have been ‘ _joined at the hip’_ ,” his eyes narrow at the saying. “We shared just about everything; it was only a matter of time before I had allowed him to take a piece of David as well. I didn’t expect for him to be as enthusiastic as he was, or how easy it was to fall into it being the three of us—it wasn’t like much changed.”

He continued, progressing through the points that needed to be said. Locus wanted this to work just as much as Vergil—it was… refreshing.

“It was difficult to include you. I can get… possessive of David—Felix has started to pick up that trait as well. But,” Locus’ forehead pressed against his temple, his shoulder’s dropping. “He’s fond of you, I can’t tell if its love or not but he is fond of you—and I am as well. If that makes this situation any easier to understand.”

It was the most Vergil has heard him say that wasn’t in a fit of annoyance in the middle of one of their petty arguments. His gut clenched, heart soaring up in his throat as he pressed their lips together. Holding Locus’ face to his and he pressed and slid their lips together, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

“We’ll talk it out when we get him home,” Locus’ lips brush against his, “figure out what we’re doing.” Vergil nodded, kissing the other man again—another lingering peck followed by another. This wouldn’t end like this, it wouldn’t end here.

\--

_“Dream a dream like nothing before,_

_Dream of hope and dream of love._

_Follow a path all your own—”_

Washington sighed, leaning back in the desk chair. He didn’t know what else to write, how did professor even want him to go about writing a poem? What did she mean; people consider poems in so many different ways.

Why did he suddenly jump to love?

“Felix!” something slipped in the bathtub and Washington winced at the sound of Locus’ string of curses drowning out even Felix’s cackle of laughter.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and Wash smiled when the twenty year old leaned over his back to get a look at the screen. Between porn and class, projects were stacking up—even more so for Vergil who had work on top of everything else. “Is this your poem?” he read over the three lines, then read them over again. His fingers twirling the stud in Wash’s ear as he concentrated; concentrated on figuring out where the blond was trying to go with it.

“It’s dumb,” he reached up, taking his hand in his and away from his ear—it was stirring a hum within him that he didn’t have the time to deal with. He had two readings to read before class in three days, this project due next week, an essay outline to plan and find on his computer, and a Felix to yell at to get him to do his own work.

Vergil kissed his cheek, “it’s cute. Fitting for you too—all romantic ‘n shit.”

Wash huffed, pushing the other man away and he left after stealing at quick kiss—only a brief hint of tongue and teeth.

“ _Don’t follow the moon_

_That leads you back home._

_Follow the heart_

_That leads you to your start.—”_

He wasn’t sure what she wanted when she told them to write a poem. He wasn’t sure what genre he could’ve done until he already started writing. He had so many things racing in his head—he thought of colours, of the reds and greens and oranges. How to blend them with yellow and gray—with the colours that he loved too much.

He hardly thought when the wet towel wrapped around his head and he pulled it off, dropping it to the floor by his feet without giving in to Felix’s taunting.

“ _I dream of colour;_

_Of one bright blinding ray of yellow._

_At first it’s just the one,_

_Just the one beckoning endlessly._

_We dream of colour;_

_Of greens and yellows._

_We dream of colours;_

_Of greens and yellows and oranges._

_Find that rhythm,_

_Go find that beat;_

_Three becomes four_

_And that’s the feat._

_We dream of colours;_

_Of greens and yellows and oranges and reds.—“_

\--

Washington had stolen Locus’ seat, locking the door when the man threw a glance back at him. “I want the window seat,” Wash smiled—his lips wavering under the strain, keeping that twitch of a grin on his lips to show that he didn’t mean any offence.

Locus took the passenger seat in return, pushing his seat back to fit his legs as Felix huffed and climbed into the back behind Vergil. “You could’ve just _said_ you wanted to sit with me, babe, I wouldn’t fault you for it.” It was the first thing Wash had heard Felix say since he yelled at him.

He ignored the comment, leaning between the seats and grabbing the phone charger and his long dead phone. “Phones dead, planning on crashing the rest of the way home. Kay?” It took a moment between plugging it in and the phone eventually turning back on; and Wash stared at the phone in hand to insure that it would actually function.

Vergil, with a can of Red Bull in hand and the steering wheel in the other pulled out of the parking lot—out of the rest stop and quickly accelerating back onto the highway. When the speedometer reached the speed limit and continued to climb was when the wall of texts finally started appearing.

Locus, Vergil, Maine, Felix, North and South, York and Carolina, Tucker and Caboose—C.T and an unknown number claiming to be belonged to Girlie appeared. Over two hundred and fifty messages waited for him and he _had to open his phone_. Had to look at them—over two hundred. TWO HUNDRED!

“Fucking hell,” and that’s not even looking at the _missed calls_ or the full voicemail box. He sets the device down, hoping for a moment that it doesn’t slip down between the seats, as he falls back into his seat and runs a hand up into his hair.

He doesn’t know if he should bring it up, doesn’t know if _now_ is the time to bring it up—he wants to. Wants to so _fucking_ badly but… what if… what if Mother was right? What if…?

Felix’s foot knocks against his ankle, snapping him from his thoughts and to the phone ringing in his hand as he holds it up. The man’s mother picks up on the other end; a sigh and a sharp _what is it Felix_ giving away the fact that this wasn’t planned—wasn’t expected. Wash knows from past experiences that Felix never calls home unannounced unless it was _for something_. “I have something to tell you,” he states calmly, like it would happen every day. But the way he licks his lips, clicks the ball of his tongue ring against the back of his teeth, shows that he’s nervous.

Or as nervous as Felix can get.

“Do I need to call the lawyers again?” The woman’s voice travels over the speakers and Vergil and Locus chuckle from the front seats.

“No, no Mom you don’t need to call Frank.” Felix rolls his brown eyes; dark, rich pools that watched Washington as he spoke. His toe nudging against Wash’s ankle again. “Actually have something to tell you; you’d be happy about actually.” The woman’s silence spurred him to continue, “I’m in a relationship… with some people.”

“It’s Locus and Wash.” Not a question, no surprise—not even a hesitation before her reply. Like everyone had expected it from the day it all started.

“And a guy name Vergil—haven’t met him yet, I’ll bring him down or something for dinner.” And for a minute all the car heard was her laughter—calling out to her husband and telling him the news as well. Like it _so unbelievable_ that Felix Andrada actually got into a relationship—or was it because he was in one with three people? “Haha, laugh it up. Now that I’m on that topic… hey, we’re making porn. Surprise!”

“FEL—!” Felix snickered when he promptly ended the call, turning off his phone and tossing it to the seat between them.

The phone in the front seat started buzzing and Locus groaned, silencing it—sending it straight to voicemail. “Really?” he sighed wistfully, knowing that as soon as he checks it’s going to be nothing but angry Mama Andrada calling him until he picks up.

“I had to get my point across—he’s _ours_ , Lo. Dibs—you called dibs _years_ ago!” Felix exclaimed  gesturing with his hands—like he doesn’t see the point that they’re getting _upset_ over. He leaned in, across the backseat and glared at Washington. “Look at this drama blondie—getting me to get all _mushy_. You really don’t understand how _crazy_ you make us, do you? Make me all weak to my knees like some dumb chick-flick movie—feel like I should be sighing and bemoaning about how pretty your eyes are.”

When he goes in for a kiss Washington is still to _shocked_ to do anything more than to just accept it—accept the familiar pair of pierced lips against his, the matching pierced tongue sliding between his lips an coaxing his tongue into movement. He _does_ kiss back—he doesn’t want to be mad, doesn’t _want_ this to end.

He _wants_ them to love him, wants them to care and be with him—he wants his mother to be wrong. He wants this to be more than just sex. He wants to go back to curling up with Locus and Vergil on the couch as they argue about the superhero movie playing on TV. He wants to go back to Felix bitching and complaining when Wash reminds them that they have a paper due in a week that he _knows_ Felix hasn’t started yet. He wants to go back to that comfortable image of that relationship he has in mind—wants to make it _real_.

He wants to label it, call them _his_.

He wants to ruin them; make their breath catch, voices wrecked—wants to be the first thing they think of when they wake up and the last thing they think of before falling asleep. “This doesn’t change the fact that we’re _talking about this_ when we get home,” Washington was able to say between the kisses—between the hands holding his face against his, the tongue sliding against his.

He could hear the agreement; all three of them agreeing that the conversation must be had—that this was _happening_. “But first,” Felix pulls away to kiss and nip at the un-bruised side of his face, “first I’m going to make you forget all about this bruises and steal that breath away.”

The first part was working—the ache dull, but there. Angry at being forgotten, now that Felix mentioned it.

They grew softer, lasted longer when they brushed over the discoloured patches. Felix wasn’t often affectionate; never really one to give it out willingly and Wash wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity of it all, he needed it too much. He needed to _know_ that Felix was filling to do this—it felt good, felt odd and strange and _new_.

He loved it; loved the gentle touches to his face—the kisses and touch. “Never again, David. Never a-fucking-gain,” he promised, promised between the kisses. Wash wasn’t about to comment on it, wasn’t about to comment on the fact that he was being so uncharacteristically _soft_ —he needed it, needed the feeling of affection.

As much as they’d joke and comment on how Felix claimed to be a people person and failed at it—as much as he fucked it up with his own hubris. As much as it didn’t show, Felix _knew_ how to read people and knew how to read them terrifyingly well. Felix _knew_ that he needed this—he _knew_ that Washington knew as well.

“Never again.”

And Wash would hold him too that.


	4. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk and a push in the right direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than normal but really... its just a way to wrap it all up. Have a lil' talk... and back to smut :P
> 
> And i would love to see you on tumblr! You can find me @ShadowSheyla

Vergil fell into the couch with a heavy sigh, eyes falling shut as the other three puttered around—Felix went fishing for something to eat, Locus fell into the seat beside him and Wash went to change his clothes. “How are we even going to _start_ this?” he sighed, looking to the man at his side.

Felix sauntered back into the living room, his hips swings—that usual swing in his steps, the bounce in his feet was back as he flopped down onto the coffee table and crossed an ankle over his knee. “Well I don’t know about the rest of you but _relationships_ aren’t exactly my strong point—I know what I want and I will damn well say it, everything else is just…” he shrugged. His was up for whatever it was; let them pick out that romantic shit and he’d go along because they were _his_ boys and if that’s what he had to do to make them happy? Fuck it, done.

Washington came back to that; one of Vergil’s sweaters and Locus’ sweatpants with the strings pulled tight to keep it from slipping and further down his legs. “And what does that mean?” he lingered away from them, brow raised in question—at Felix or the fact that Felix was _on the damn table again_ , they didn’t examine the look any further.

“Like we had before—I ask about sleeping with someone if they catch my attention, if the three of you agree I have my fun and come back like nothing happened.” Simple, that’s all Felix really wanted—only really wanted that freedom of coming and going without that _feel_ of the shackles binding him to them. Maybe if he continued with it, maybe he’d continue to be able to chase those _questioning_ thoughts he’s been having about his own romantic orientation.

They looked to Wash for his answer—his reaction. Watched him as he pushed off the wall by the entrance of the living room, they watched as he rounded the coffee table and flopped loudly into the long couch on the other side of Locus. “Fine. Then we’re having two dates, at least, every month. I don’t care if it’s all of us or just one of you with me—I actually want to go out and _do_ dumb couple things,” Washington countered.

“I can do that. Though I need to still balance out class, work and friends,” Vergil sighed leaning forwards to set his elbows on his knees. Every year that past, every year he’d think that that new year would suddenly get easier to balance everything—balance working part-time at the junk yard that one of his buddies’ parents owned, the four classes, and spending time with those friends outside of work or classes. But, nope, it was always something else that teased that balance—it was a bitch at times, annoying at others, but _refreshing_ all the same.

“We could all get out once a month, more than likely on a weekend or late Friday night.” Locus was thinking, going over all the schedules that he memorized after Wash and Vergil started crashing here more often than at their own place. Wash had his classes clustered in the mornings and at the beginning of the week, leaving his time table pretty much opened for whatever (though he was the one that tended to _hound_ Felix into getting his assignments done). Felix had his spaced out on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday all in the afternoons but still out before six and Thursday mornings finishing around noon. Vergil has his classes timed to start all around nine in the mornings and go until around noon and then three days a week he works until anywhere from five or until nine.

“Oh my fucking—,” Felix rolled his eyes, “are you going over all our shit in your head. Really?” Locus hummed, tilting his hand in a _so-so_ motion and Felix huffed again. “You’re such a fucking _nerd_. Seriously, if I don’t constantly walk in on you and Verg arguing about _comic books_ or _video games_ , this would’ve done it right here. I grew up with you damn it, when did you have the opportunity to get so _geeky_?”

“Speaking of that—the two of you need to continue to work on that part. Actually, no—throw Felix in there too; he’s been getting possessive as well.” Felix gaped, lip pulling upwards to snarl out something. “I’m serious; the three of you having been getting testy about people _talking_ to me—have some confidence in me, c’mon.” Washington rolled his eyes, triggering the other three to do the same.

“It’s not _you_ we’re concerned about—” Locus started, quickly being cut off by Felix.

“Tucker has _always_ been hands-y, jealous about the shit between you and Lo. We’d rub it in his face in high school—fucking fun as shit, but still… Lavernius is persistent I’ll give him that much.” He could go on. Could bring up the fact that their school gave the phenomenon of how many people crushed on David Washington an actual _name_. He could mention how he and Locus were _making out_ for a whole summer and Wash still didn’t see that Locus was all ‘ _heart eyes mothah-fuckah’_ with him.

“Tucker doesn’t have a _thing_ for me,” the blond snorted in disbelief.

“Manly flirted with you as well, before I had to _kindly_ remind them that I was seeing you,” Vergil brought up his own example and Felix pointed to the man— _see! See this is what I’m talking about!!_ He gestured to the aura around the eldest man, even going as far as adding his other hand for an added effect.

“See Blondie, you’re _shit_ at noticing people making moves at you. They have to quiet literally throw ‘go out with me’ bricks at your head for you to even _notice_ it. And, and! Natural flirt, don’t even know you’re doing it—drives _me_ mental. I can say Locus had tried to kill someone when they thought you were interested and they went in for a kiss!”

\--

The conversation was derailed, re-railed again and promptly derailed again.

Close to three hours those three were on that couch/coffee table. Three hours where they’d mention what they wanted, what they expected. They understood that while they were coming into that relationship with an establish foundation from the time where they weren’t _actually_ dating but still… living like they were.

They understood that it was under construction.

Though the key points were: the apartment was there they’d do the porn, it was their ‘base’ of sorts (Vergil had three roommates that he wasn’t really fond of but he was still living in the place for the time being so he’d be reasonable, and Wash had a house full of _Freelancers_ at his place who at times got too nosy for their own good). They’d go on a group date once a month and someone else would take Wash out the other time. Vergil was still going to be working and hanging out with friends (it was nearing the end of midterms now so they’d most likely be having more get together’s, parties and over-all outings now that the tests were out of the way. They were more than welcome to join Vergil when he’d go out, as long as they inform him before hand). Felix still got his “fill of strangers” as long as permission was given.  And Locus just really wanted to have Wash still sleeping with him—the working on the relationship between Vergil and he was already discussed and understood before this conversation.

It was…

Well, it’ll be an adventure.

It wasn’t exactly better, wasn’t exactly _perfect_ either—but it was theirs and they’d be working on it. That’s all that Wash could’ve hoped for, all he could’ve hoped for to help chase the thoughts away for awhile. To chase it away until a later time.

It's a start, a push in the right direction and that's all that really mattered.

\--

 **ThreeGuys &aBlond **live every Thursday night.


End file.
